


This Is Enough

by LulaIsAKitten



Series: Denmark Street musings [14]
Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2019-09-10
Packaged: 2020-10-14 03:27:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20593910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LulaIsAKitten/pseuds/LulaIsAKitten





	This Is Enough

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hobbeshalftail3469](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hobbeshalftail3469/gifts).

“Need to go get the curry,” Nick said lazily.

“Can’t they deliver?” Strike stubbed his cigarette out in the ashtray on the Herberts’ patio table and sat back in his chair, stretching out. It had been a long week of tailing suspects; sitting down was welcome.

He glanced across at the patio doors, slid closed to stop his smoke getting into the kitchen. Sat at the kitchen table surrounded by place mats and cutlery, a half finished bottle of wine between them, Ilsa and Robin chatted. Blonde and red-gold hair glinted in the lights, swished as they leaned forward to whisper or threw their heads back to laugh. His oldest friend and his newest one, fast becoming buddies themselves.

Nick nudged him, pulling him from his reverie. “You gonna make your move, Oggy?”

Strike returned his gaze to the garden, to the bottle of Doom Bar in front of him, to his friend. “She’s only been divorced five minutes.”

Nick snorted. “It’s been months. She left him almost two years ago.”

Strike sighed. It still felt too soon. Too scary. Too big a step into the unknown. He and his business partner got along so well now. They worked well together, were honest with one another about their health and what jobs they could and couldn’t take on, where they wanted the business to go. They joked and chatted, shared a drink at the Tottenham. Enjoyed curry nights at the Herberts’. It just...worked. Too well to be worth risking.

“Too soon,” he murmured, taking another swig of his beer.

Nick shook his head, frustrated. “I don’t understand you, Oggy. I really thought, once the coast was clear...”

Strike shook his head. “It works like it is.”

“But is it what you want?”

Strike hesitated. Was it? What did he want?

Nick rolled his eyes and hauled himself to his feet. “I’m gonna stroll down and get the food. They will deliver, but we’ll wait longer. I’m hungry now.”

Strike nodded. “I’d offer to go with you, but my leg’s pretty knackered this week.”

Nick had seen him limp down the hall earlier. He clapped his friend on the shoulder. “No need. I won’t be long.” He slid the glass door open, and music and chatter washed out, filling the patio. Nick stepped through, and for a moment Strike closed his eyes and listened to the familiar cadence of Robin’s voice, the sound of his office, the sound he could hear from his flat if he listened hard enough, the sound of home.

Nick slid the door closed, and once again the scene fell quiet, as though the volume had been muted. Strike watched idly as Nick grabbed his keys from the kitchen counter and leaned to press an unhurried kiss to his wife’s lips.

What _did _he want? Did he want a chance at what Nick and Ilsa had, or did he in fact want what he’d got? A perfect working relationship, a business that was finally thriving thanks to Robin, staff he could afford to employ to take the pressure off his physical health. A roof over his head, Sky Sports on his television, a good local pub. He had all he needed.

Nick was gone now. Strike lit another cigarette and drew on it deeply. He exhaled through his nose, smoke coiling around him, and took another swig of his beer. In the kitchen, the red-gold head leaned close to the blonde one as some snippet was imparted; softly made up and pink-cheeked from the wine, she was stunning.

The cool spring air hinted of the approach of summer. The chiminea Nick had insisted on lighting glowed warm. The beer was cold, the company good, the food on its way. Strike gazed fondly at Robin and smiled to himself.

_This is enough. _Contentment swelled within him. He had all he needed. Everything was right with the world. _This is enough._

Robin glanced up as Ilsa turned and reached for the wine bottle to top up their glasses. Her gaze wandered to the glass doors, her eyes finding his, catching him watching her. A soft smile crept across her face, her eyes warm and fond. Strike grinned back, and the familiar ache in his heart twisted just a little.

_This is enough. Or is it?_

Ilsa dragged Robin’s attention away, and Strike returned his to the garden, drawing on his cigarette.


End file.
